


Hellbound

by LadyZombie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hellraiser & Related Fandoms, Hellraiser (Movies)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Crossover, Gen, Horror, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-11-15 22:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18081929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyZombie/pseuds/LadyZombie
Summary: Lucius Malfoy acquires a deadly puzzle box that turns out to be a gateway to hell. To save his friend, Severus Snape must journey into hell and face the Cenobites.Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Harry Potter or Hellraiser. This is a work of fanfiction.





	1. Chapter 1

Lucius was decidedly unimpressed with the shabby, dirty little shop. He had just come from a surreptitious meeting with an unsavory associate in a Knockturn Alley pub when he spied a door that had not been there at his last visit. The simple wooden sign hanging at the top of the door read 'Dark Delights' prompting a disdainful snort from Lucius at the unoriginality of the name. Dark delights indeed! He doubted that any of the pitiful shops in Knockturn Alley had much of anything that would interest the serious collector, like himself. Only incompetent witches and wizards seeking to cast petulant curses or to impress other incompetents would be lured in by the banal offerings of poison candles and second rate potions that filled the shop windows of Knockturn Alley. Still, this new shop may provide other opportunities to unload inconvenient items from his personal inventory; items that most likely would bring him to the attention of the Wizengamot. Lucius disliked dealing with Borgin at Borgin and Burkes. Although the man was properly deferential and solicitous, Lucius suspected that he had cheated him on past transactions although he could not prove it.

Like all Knockturn Alley shops, this one was also dimly light with windows charmed to keep out what little light filtered through the alley. Candles floated above tables and off of walls to better illuminate the shop's paltry offerings: boxes of empty soul gems here, a cursed brooch there, stacks of spell books, and dusty bottles of common potions. To Lucius, it almost seemed that the shop's inventory was contrived, so purposely commonplace as to not attract attention. Dropping a piece of amber with an ancient spider preserved inside back down on its table, he decided to leave. There was nothing of interest here. However just as he turned towards the door, his eyes fell upon a small display case sitting on the till's countertop. From where he stood, it housed what appeared to be a gold and black box, shining from the reflected light of a grouping of candles behind it. Lucius approached the till, feeling compelled to investigate the unusual little object. As he got closer, he saw that the box featured an ornate gold patterned inlay over shiny, black lacquer. It hung suspended inside the display case and slowly rotated on an invisible axis. Lucius bent down closer to examine the intricate pattern of the gold inlay until his nose was nearly pressed up against the glass of the case.

"What is your pleasure, sir?"

Lucius startled upright. He had not noticed the man sitting in the shadows behind the till. His eyes now focused on the unkempt shopkeeper who stared back at him. The man looked like a vagrant with shabby clothes, a sooty face, and scraggly beard. Lucius suppressed his urge to sneer at the man's obvious lower class.

"What is that?" Lucius asked, pointing at the object.

"Ah! Sir has a most discerning eye. It's a puzzle box." The man answered, not taking his eyes off of Lucius.

"That's it? A common puzzle box? My son has a dozen puzzle boxes." Lucius felt almost incredulous that such a simple thing would be given such prominence in the shop. Obviously it was the most valuable thing in this junk collection and the grubby shopkeeper was going to try to bilk some gullible fool for as many galleons as he possibly could for it. As the box continued its slow rotation in the glass display, the shopkeeper stood and stepped into the light. He ran his fingers over the case.

"Not so common a puzzle box. Its history is quite fascinating and terrible. Would sir like to hear?"

Lucius nodded as his attention was drawn once again to the intriguing box as it rotated.

"It is called the Lament Configuration. It was crafted by Philip Lemarchand, an eighteenth century French toymaker renowned for his mechanical singing birds. Lemarchand himself was a man of modest means but was a favorite among wealthy aristocrats. Their patronage kept food on Lemarchand's table and a roof over his wife and son's heads. One night, Lemarchand was given a commission for what would be his greatest and most dreadful creation. An aristocrat by the name of Duc de L'Isle tasked Lemarchand to craft a puzzle box. His instructions were very precise and Lemarchand was told to take as much time as he needed. No less than perfection would be accepted. He dropped nearly an entire year's earnings into Lemarchand's palm, promising an equal payment upon delivery.

Lemarchand toiled night and day, crafting de L'Isle's puzzle box. He barely ate and rarely slept. His young wife begged and pleaded with him to rest but Lemarchand was a man obsessed. When he finally finished the box, he wrapped it in a cloth and ran out into a storm to deliver it to his wealthy client and to collect his final payment. He returned home, pale and shaken, but refused to tell his frightened wife what he had seen at de L'Isle's chateau. He muttered about demons and gateways and how he was the cause for unleashing hell on earth. Resolving to set matters right, he once again disappeared into the night, vowing to take back the box and destroy it. He was never seen again nor was Duc de L'Isle."

The silence after the man finished his tale caused Lucius to startle again. He realized that he had spent the entire time entranced by the slowing spinning box while listening to the shopkeeper. His mouth had gone dry and his fingers ached. He felt a nearly overwhelming desire to hold the box in his hands.

"Why did Duc de L'Isle commission the box?" Lucius asked as he grasped his hands behind his back.

"It was rumored that de L'Isle was obsessed with the dark arts and was the premier authority of the time on all things occult. He was tolerated by polite society because decadent aristocrats enjoyed gathering at his chateau for orgies and other hedonistic indulgences. Pleasure, de L'Isle said, was the ultimate truth and the pursuit of it justified any means to obtain it. Having exhausted all manner of earthly pleasure, de L'Isle turned his attention to more infernal pleasures, so he commissioned the box to use as a gateway between earth and hell."

Lucius once again turned his full attention to the box. "Hell? Why would a wizard concern himself with such fiction?" he muttered to himself.

"Duc de L'Isle was no wizard, nor was Lemarchand."

"Muggles?" Lucius asked, becoming incredulous once again.

"Yes. This box, however unwittingly created by Lemarchand and deviously used by de L'Isle, is Muggle magic."

Lucius bristled. "Muggle magic? Impossible! Those creatures are incapable of our gift." He grimaced while the shopkeeper chuckled.

"Perhaps. Then again, who knows what the heart's deepest desire can conjure, eh?"

Lucius licked his dry lips as he felt his hands aching to hold the oddly seductive cube. He must have it, he decided. He was somewhat dubious of the shopkeeper's story, especially at the mention of Muggles performing magic, but whatever this box was, whatever it held, Lucius wanted. It seemed to call to him.

"Its price?" he asked.

"Difficult to say. Whatever sir thinks it is worth." The shopkeeper answered.

"What kind of game are you playing? Set a price, man!"

The shopkeeper smiled as he lifted the glass from off the display. "Whatever you are willing to pay for such a treasure is its price. It is not for me to decide."

Lucius thought hard. If he offered too low of a price, the man may cut off negotiation and Lucius wanted the box too badly to allow that. However, if he offered too high a price, the man would take advantage of him in future transactions. He quickly assessed the amount of gold inlay and craftsmanship, brought out his coin purse, and shook out its entire contents which he then dropped on the till.

"That is what I'm willing to pay." Lucius declared although he was willing to pay two times that amount if the man refused his offer. The shopkeeper glanced at the pile of gold galleons on his till and gestured to the box.

"Take it. It's yours."

Lucius suppressed a sigh of relief and reached out to pluck the box from its invisible axis. He wanted to laugh with delight that this enigmatic object was now his. Lucius quickly regained control of his faculties and slipped the box into an inner pocket of his robe and made a hasty retreat out of the store so he could return home and examine his newest acquisition.

"It always was." The shopkeeper said to the empty shop.


	2. Chapter 2

"Dearest, please come to bed."

The weary voice of Narcissa Malfoy filtered through the closed door of Lucius' private study. Every night since he purchased the Lament Configuration puzzle box, he had ensconced himself in his study, studying and admiring the box for hours, but was no closer to solving it. The gold inlay was highly complex and patterned differently on each of the box's six sides. There were circles, both open and solid, arcs and angles that suggested hundreds, if not thousands, of possible sequences of moves that would open it completely.

"I will be along shortly."

If Lucius had been listening, he would have heard Narcissa sigh as she turned away from the door.

Lucius considered himself a patient man, or at least a disciplined one, but he was growing frustrated. He might have given up entirely had a strange event not occurred the previous night. As he ran his fingers over the pattern on one side of the box, he became aware that the light in the study had dimmed. It was also at the same time that he heard a tinkling melody coming from inside the box. It wasn't a complete melody though, only a fragment suggesting that more of it would play as he made progress towards its solution. Only when the snippet had finished and he removed his fingers from the box did the lights resume their normal luminescence. He did not want to admit to himself that he was as unsettled as he was intrigued. Something had just happened that he had no explanation for other than the box was in fact enchanted, but that was impossible. A Muggle craftsman made it for another Muggle who fancied himself a practitioner of the Dark Arts; a laughable concept to be sure.

_"Perhaps. Then again, who knows what the heart's deepest desire can conjure, eh?"_

The shopkeeper's words returned to Lucius. As loathe as he was to admit it, force of will alone can cause extraordinary events to occur, even for Muggles. Was it possible that the wills of two Muggles focused entirely on this box, caused it to become imbibed with magic? If so, what kind of magic would it be? The shopkeeper recounted that de L'Isle commissioned the box to create a gateway between Earth and hell, but there was no such place. Hell was a purely Muggle concept where the wicked are sent for eternal torture, at least as far as the Muggles who worshipped the cannibal god who instructed his followers to eat of his flesh and drink of his blood were concerned.

Again Lucius ran his fingers over the same side of the box in the same manner he had previously to elicit the tinkling melody, and as he did, the lights dimmed once more. Lucius removed his fingers and watched as the lights grew bright again. Now he was determined. He must solve this puzzle box, must tease out more of the tinkling melody and unlock its mysteries. Taking the box in hand, he moved the fingers of his right hand over the first side he got a reaction from and with his left, splayed two fingers over two solid circles and ran this thumb over an arc on another side. Nothing. Perhaps the thumb should stroke the arc in the opposite direction. Yes! As Lucius ran his thumb along the arc and pressed in with his other two fingers, he heard a clicking sound and then another segment of the melody played. As before, the lights in the room dimmed but then a most extraordinary thing happened; the first side of the box began moving on its own. Angles surrounding the center circle rotated and a section of the box popped up. Lucius held his breath as he watched the mechanized movement. The innards of the interior of the piece were pearlescent and slightly reflective.

"Astonishing!" He muttered.

No sooner had the box tantalized him with another of its mysteries, than the piece returned to its place and the angles replaced themselves to their original position as the lights once again grew brighter. As he exhaled and set the box down on his desk, a movement caught his peripheral eye. Lucius looked in the direction of the movement coming from one wall of his study. For a moment, he thought he saw a glow coming from cracks in the plaster but when he focused his attention on the wall, all he saw was a smooth surface dotted with family portraits.

"I must be fatigued."

Still, something had happened, he was sure of it. A change in the air, a dynamic energy moved in the room and then grew still. Lucius looked at the box again - six sides but only two hands. How did Lemarchand design the box to be solved with only eight fingers and two thumbs? Unless the player was meant to solve each side sequentially; as one side was solved, the player rotated the box and continued with each side until all six were solved. Yes, that must be it! But how to know which side to solve next except through trial and error? He sighed, rubbed at his eyes, and then rose to pour himself a well-earned brandy. As he swirled the liquid in the glass, he studied the box from across the room and struck upon a thought. He drank deeply from his glass and then rushed back to his desk where he took a leaf of parchment and quill in hand.

_My dear Severus,_

__

__

__

__

_It has been far too long since my wife and I have had the pleasure of your company. If you can spare the time, we would very much like you to come to the Manor for dinner this weekend._

_Yours in brotherhood,_

_Lucius_

_P.S., I've already anticipated your excuses, Severus, and they won't be accepted. A man must rest and enjoy himself now and then._

Lucius smiled as he folded the parchment, imagining the look of indignation on his friend's face who never understood that he was more transparent than he presumed to be. He dripped black sealing wax onto the parchment letter and mashed the Malfoy crest seal into it. As it cooled and hardened, he opened a window in his study and whistled for his favorite owl.

"Deliver this to Severus Snape at that horrid little hovel of his. You know where it is."

The owl hooted eagerly and flew off as soon as the letter was tied to one of its legs. Lucius picked up his snifter of brandy and settled back down at his desk.

"Let's just see what my friend has to say about you."

Lucius finished his brandy and made his way to the master bedroom. As he slipped into bed, he attempted to press a kiss to one of his wife's bare shoulders.

"Apologies, my sweet. I have been working on…"

Half-asleep, Narcissa rolled away from Lucius and pulled the covers tightly around her, preemptively cutting off any promise of intimacy. Lucius rolled onto his back and stared into the darkness of the bedroom as an image of the box rotated in his mind's eye.


	3. Chapter 3

Severus Snape finished buttoning his frock coat in front of the mirror, preparing for dinner at the Malfoy Manor. Lucius' owl arrived earlier in the week with an invitation that demanded his presence. It was just like Lucius to think he could snap his fingers and make the world jump. He really  **did**  have work to do, thank you very much! Even though it was summer break from Hogwarts, it didn't mean that he spent his time idly. He was a Potions Master and that meant in order to remain in good standing in the field he had to contribute research to  _Potion's Quarterly_  on a semi-regular basis. Currently, he was working on a group project with other Potioners to stabilize and extend the effects of Polyjuice Potion. Severus was confident that his hypothesis was at the heart of the problem. He proposed that the lacewing fly ingredient had been corrupted within the last five years due to an infestation of Indonesian lacewings that some dunderhead imported and accidentally let loose into the environment. These immigrants had then interbred with native lacewings, thus creating an unreliable crossbreed. Independent experiments conducted by the team's researchers provided significant support for his hypothesis. Polyjuice Potion brewed using lacewing flies older than five years resulted in more stable effects than with recent commercial grade lacewings. They would present their findings to the Ministry of Magic upon publication and turn the problem over to them to correct.

It had been an arduous task but one he was happy to participate in as it occupied the time he'd otherwise spend kicking about his home at Spinner's End.

Severus gathered up his gifts (a blank journal for Narcissa and a rare book for Lucius) and Apparated to the gates of Malfoy Manor. Narcissa came out to greet him in the foyer after one of their house elves alerted her to his arrival.

"Oh Severus, I'm so happy to see you," Narcissa said after kissing the air next to each of his cheeks. He noticed immediately that she was without her usual effervescence. Normally Narcissa Malfoy was a consummate hostess, showering her guests with niceties and a bubbly demeanor, even if it was completely faked on occasion.

"Are you well? You appear tired, Narcissa. I could brew you some specialized potions if you can describe your symptoms."

"No, don't trouble yourself, Severus. I've just been a little…preoccupied lately. It'll pass." She patted his arm and led him towards the dining room. "Go tell the Master to join us in the dining room." She snapped at the closest elf, which scurried off to obey her order.

Snape and Narcissa were forced to fill the awkward time waiting for Lucius with idle chatter. After putting on a show of gushing over her new journal (" **However**  did you know that I needed one!"), discussing Draco's holiday to the wizarding ski resort in the Alps with the Goyle family, and assorted gossip, Lucius finally appeared, sporting at least a three day's beard growth and bags under his eyes. Severus couldn't stop the reflexive raising of his eyebrows. Narcissa pointedly ignored his appearance with haughty disdain.

"Hullo, old boy! So good of you to join us! I'm famished! Shall we eat? You there, elf! Go down into the cellar and fetch two bottles of the hundred-year-old vintage." Lucius plopped down at the formal dining table and rubbed his hands together in a most un-Lucius like fashion. "Tonight is the night for indulgence!" He declared.

Severus cut his eyes from Narcissa to Lucius, Lucius to Narcissa, and concluded that Lucius had either begun a new affair or returned to his abuse of stimulants. He silently cursed his friend's imprudence of actions. He lost count of the number of times that he had advised Lucius to stop seeing a mistress (or to at least be more discrete), or brewed weaning potions for yet another relapse. Lucius, frankly, was an addict. Whether it was sex, substances, or hobbies, Lucius could never understand the concept of moderation.

Dinner was another exercise in ill comfort. Narcissa spoke very little as Lucius boomed with enthusiasm. In fact, Lucius dominated the conversation with glib trivialities while at the same time rushing them through their meal. As he spooned the last bit of gelato into his mouth (even though Severus had barely begun on his), he informed Severus that he wanted to show him something in his study. That was fine, Severus thought. It would give him a chance to scold his friend over whatever self-inflicted hedonism Lucius had undertaken. Lucius threw down his spoon with delight upon Severus' agreement and begging off at Narcissa's indignation.

"Damn him" Narcissa muttered as both men exited the dining room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snape was furious.

"You mean to tell me that you brought me here tonight for…for…a toy?"

Between Lucius' shocking appearance and uncharacteristic behavior, to Narcissa's anger and obvious resentment, Severus had been sure that Lucius was once again imperiling his position in society with his actions. Compared to the truth however, Severus would have preferred something as mundane as another one of Lucius' relapses. No, it seemed this time Lucius was obsessed over a strange little puzzle box and apparently had been spending nearly every waking moment trying to solve it. It was madness! It made no sense. It was just a toy, an objet d'art. No wonder Narcissa looked like she wanted to hex her husband into the next world!

"Take it easy, old boy. This isn't an ordinary puzzle box. It's called the Lament Configuration and…"

"I don't bloody well care what it's called! Look at yourself, Lucius. You've lost weight, you looked like you haven't slept in a fortnight, and your wife seems most distressed. I thought for sure you had started using substances again or found another tart, but to discover all this is over a puzzle box? Have you completely lost your mind?"

Lucius sighed, having grown accustomed to Snape's scoldings. The only reason Lucius tolerated it was because Severus was a good and loyal advisor and that they had been friends ever since they were boys at school. Lucius suspected that Severus had even been infatuated with him at one point.

"Severus, I'm really not in the mood to hear another one of your starched and dour schoolmarm lectures. What I've been trying to tell you is that this is not just some ordinary puzzle box. It was made by an eighteenth century toy maker as a commissioned piece for an aristocratic occultist who used it in some dark arts ritual. And are you ready to hear the best part? They were Muggles. Both of them! Isn't that wonderfully absurd?"

Lucius was all smiles while Snape scowled.

"So it's an eighteenth century, Muggle crafted puzzle box. It still doesn't explain why you've dragged me into your study to show it off like some priceless diadem."

"Very well. What would you say if I told you that this box has some kind of enchantment on it?"

"I would say that you're being ridiculous."

"But is it possible? For Muggles to imbue an object with magic?"

"It really is astounding that you somehow managed to pass both  _Theory of Magic_  courses when we were in school despite the obvious fact that you slept through them. If you had remembered the readings, you would know that in certain rare circumstances, Muggles can indeed perform feats that otherwise would be beyond them. After all, it's one of the theories of where we originated. I believe it was the wizard philosopher, Valerian Woodhouse, who in 1582 proposed that…"

Lucius' eyes glinted as he looked at the box. So the shopkeeper wasn't pulling his leg to make a quick sale. The Muggle-made box was probably enchanted but how and in what manner? The shopkeeper said de L'Isle used it as a gateway to hell but that was impossible since "hell" didn't exist. Oh there were other plains of existence, to be sure, but these were Muggles from a time and place where Christianity held sway over the culture. Because of this, their concept of hell was likely taken from the so-called holy writ of scripture; a place of everlasting torment where the damned are sent upon death. From what little he knew about Muggle religions, it seemed that hell was a central doctrine but with differing interpretations. He had read Dante Alighieri's 'The Divine Comedy' as a young man. The Middle Ages Italian poet had envisioned a hell of many layers, some cold and dark and some burning hot, but always as a place of punishment. It was a remarkable work as the Muggle poet seemed to have knowledge of the arcane art of Arithmancy with a favoring of 3's and 9's. Three canticas each with 33 cantos and of course 3 realms with 3 sets of 9 layers, rings, or bodies in each of the realms…

"Lucius!"

"Hmm?"

Snape was glaring at him. Lucius realized that he had reduced his friend to mere background noise as he lost himself in his own thoughts.

"You weren't listening to me at all, were you?"

"Of course I was." Lucius protested, "In rare cases, Muggles can tap into the universal energy we call magic, yes?"

Snape huffed in indignation. That's not all that he had said but Lucius hadn't heard a word of it. He was too busy obsessing over his ridiculous new plaything.

"Goodnight, Lucius. This has all been highly entertaining but now I must return home and do something more productive, like bang my head against a brick wall."

Snape turned on his heel and began to stomp towards the door of Lucius' study. It was farcical that all this fuss had been made over a puzzle box. Let Narcissa threaten him with divorce and subsequent scandal. It would knock more sense into Lucius' towhead than any bluster Snape could throw at him.

"Wait!" Lucius called out. Snape paused at the door with his hand upon the doorknob. "At least let me show you something I've discovered about the box."

"Let me guess - it opens. Just as puzzle boxes are wont to do." Severus said with thinly disguised disdain. He turned around and was taken aback by the expression of avarice on Lucius' face. He looked like a man possessed; his eyes alight with a singular purpose as his hands clasped the box in a greedy embrace. Without taking his eyes of Severus, Lucius moved from behind his desk to stand in the center of the room.

"Watch!"

Lucius positioned his fingers on two sides of the box. With the fingers of one hand, he pressed inwards while two fingers of the second hand pushed in on two solid circles as the thumb stroked a slotted arc. As he did so, Severus noticed the lights of Lucius' study dim as a snippet of an odd melody in a Minor key began to play. He stepped backward until he was stopped by the closed door of the study. As the melody played, one side of the box's design began moving on its own. Angles surrounding spheres began rotating until a section of the side popped up, waited for a few notes of the melody, and then replaced itself. Once it did and the melody stopped, the lights regained their original brightness. Lucius looked up and beamed at Severus.

"See? Intriguing, isn't it?"

A cold sensation spread throughout Snape's guts as he sensed the force that emanated from the box and permeated the room. If the box was enchanted, it was enchanted with a very different kind of magic and based on his physical reaction, it wasn't benign in nature.

"Where did you say you got that?" Severus asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn't, but to answer your question, I got it from a dirty little second-hand shop in Knockturn Alley. 'Dark' something. 'Dark Delights' I believe it was. It was full of junk except for this keen little find. Now would you please examine this for me, Severus? I want your expert opinion. This is obviously something very unique and I want to know just  **how**  unique. And if possession of it will land me in Azkaban."

Lucius looked at his friend in earnest. Lucius knew he wasn't a great scholar and his general knowledge was not as robust as Severus'. What's more was that beside Snape, there was no one else he trusted enough to give him honest answers and to keep his secrets.

Snape looked at the gold and black box with distaste and was about to tell Lucius to do his own sodding research but changed his mind when he once again considered Lucius' odd behavior and shocking appearance. There was indeed something amiss and Severus suspected the puzzle box was at the root of it.

"Fine," he said as he strode to Lucius' ornate desk and seated himself there, "let's just get this over with. Hand it over."

Lucius placed the box on the desk in front of Snape as gently as if it were a Fabergé egg, then retreated to hover next to his liquor cabinet as he awaited Snape's verdict.

At first, Snape merely looked at the object. Its ornamentation was reminiscent of Asian design more than 18th century French Baroque and its patterns were a study in pure geometry. He noted that even after over two centuries, the gold remained unblemished from the mars and nicks one would expect the soft metal to accumulate, nor had it been darkened by the oils from human hands. In fact, it looked like it had been finished only yesterday. It was flawless.

Snape plucked the box up to better examine each of the six sides. As he rotated the box in his hands, he felt a strange itching urge to move his fingers. The box commanded his whole attention as his fingers involuntarily moved into position. Unnerved, he watched as the thumb of his right hand placed itself over a solid circle and the middle finger inside an open one. Severus concentrated on halting the motion of his hands. When he did, he was gripped with a sudden paralysis. Although it would not have been observable to an onlooker, Snape found himself locked in an invisible struggle. Every bit of strength he possessed was devoted to halting the movement of his fingers as the box fought against him. A rising panic began to fill him as he found himself unable to break free.

And then the visions came.

Sliced and tortured flesh. Blood. Near darkness. The sound of a thousand birds' wings beating unseen in the depths. Cruel laughter. The screams…dear gods, the screams! A thousand souls crying out for mercy or death. The airy clink of metal upon metal. Chains. And through it all, impossible creatures whose features Severus could not make out clearly held court over the nightmare. He wanted to scream as he sensed the creatures' awareness of him.

_Open the box, Severus. Taste our pleasures._

"NO!"

Lucius dropped a tumbler of Scotch in surprise as Severus threw himself backward away from the desk, knocking over the chair as he did.

"Good lord, man! Are you alright? What's wrong?"

Severus steadied himself against a wall as he caught his breath. The shirt beneath his frock coat was soaked with sweat and his heart was racing. Only once before had he experienced such a malevolent force: Voldemort. But this…this was something even more vile and abhorrent and it was contained inside that wretched box. A hand appeared in front of him, offering a glass of water. Severus took it with a shaking hand and gulped it down. When he was done, he righted himself and flew at Lucius.

"You must destroy that box! Immediately!" He said, gripping each of Lucius' shoulders.

"What? Why? What's wrong with it?" Lucius asked as he attempted to prise himself from Severus' grip.

"That  **thing**  contains abominations I can't begin to describe. It can never be opened, should never be opened! It's beyond cursed." Severus' body shivered in horror inside his damp shirt.

Lucius gently removed himself from Severus grip and took a step back. His friend, who was extremely pale by nature, now looked absolutely cadaverous as he gasped for air. But nothing had happened. One moment Snape was simply looking at it, and the next he was behaving as if a dozen Dementors and Boggarts were chasing him. Why? Lucius had not experienced anything to produce such a reaction in himself.

"Severus, what happened just now? Tell me."

Snape stood fully upright and darted wild eyes about the room. He either did not hear Lucius' question or he ignored it as pulled out his wand and began waving it through the air and muttering counter-curses of all sorts. When he finished, he approached Lucius once again.

"What's in that box must never be let out. Do you understand? Now, destroy it."

"Severus, be reasonable. Just tell me what you…"

"DESTROY IT!"

"Oh honestly! A Muggle made it. How dreadful could it be? Besides, I paid more than a few galleons for it and…"

Snape growled and positioned himself in front of the desk where the box still sat. Before Lucius could finish his sentence, he pulled his wand out and leveled it at the object.

"Reducto!"

In a flash of light and deafening crack of sound, the box propelled through the air as the desk it sat on crumpled into a heap on the floor. Lucius gasped and sputtered in outrage while Snape picked his way over to where the box landed. He stood over it for several moments before stooping down to pick it up off the floor. He turned around slowly and held it up for Lucius to see. His expression was grim. The box was completely undamaged.

"Look. Even after a Reductor Curse, it remains in one piece. What further proof do you need that this is a cursed object?"

Lucius had to admit that Snape had succeeded in frightening him. He took the box out of Snape's hand and looked it over as his belly tightened. Snape was right; there wasn't a scratch on it. The enchantment was very powerful indeed.

"Just tell me what to do."

Snape ran a hand over the top of his head and filled another glass with water.

"At the moment, I'm not sure. I'll have to do some research first but I will find a way. I'll take it home and study it. I'll throw it into a volcano if I have to." He held his hand out to Lucius to receive the box, grimacing with the prospect of having to touch it again.

Lucius sighed and began to hand the box to Snape. As he did, a strange voice that was not his own hissed in his ears.

_No! He wants the box for himself!_

Lucius halted and eyed his friend. Snape didn't need to take the box. He already examined it not more than a few minutes ago. Maybe Severus was lying. Maybe he was playacting in order to take it for himself. The box was his and his alone!

"Lucius, give me the box!" Snape demanded.

"Thank you, old boy, but you needn't trouble yourself. I will dispose of the object myself." He said as he drew the box towards his chest and wrapped his second hand around it. Snape narrowed his eyes.

"Fool!" He spat and promptly apparated away from Malfoy Manor, leaving Lucius alone holding his prize.


	4. Chapter 4

Narcissa had not returned home yet. After Snape apparated away in a rage the previous night, Lucius secured the box in a cabinet since Snape had destroyed his desk, and attempted to go to bed. He told himself he would take some Dreamless Draught and sleep on the matter. His friend's reaction was unnerving to say the least and he was hard-pressed to think of another instance when Snape had reacted that strongly to anything. Upon reaching the bedroom however, he discovered that Narcissa had locked him out. A note was stuck to the door with a piece of Spello-tape.

_ Go sleep with the hounds _

He spent the rest of the night curled up on a couch in the Sitting Room. He was awakened several hours later by the slamming of the main entrance's door. An elf fearfully informed him that the Mistress had left to attend a luncheon with friends in France and to do some recreational shopping. Prying himself off the couch to a cacophony of cracking joints and vertebrae, he made his way back to the bedroom to shower and shave in the master bath. The hot water beating down on his sore muscles felt delicious and he remained in the shower until he could hardly keep his eyes open. Wrapping himself in his dressing gown, he collapsed on the bed, promising himself short rest. Then he would set about the task of determining the best plan to get back into his wife's good graces.

Lucius awoke several hours later. He had slept the entire day and into the evening, judging by the darkness outside the window. Padding downstairs, he asked the nearest elf if Narcissa was home. The nervous elf squeaked out a negative and scooted away. Knowing he was being punished, he entered into his study to fire off a letter to Narcissa's favorite jeweler. A diamond and emerald encrusted necklace should be adequate to begin marital negotiations, only to be reminded that he no longer had a desk on which to write the missive. Tisking at the loss, he pulled a book off of a shelf to use as a temporary desk and sat down in a chair.

Before he could write the salutation, his eyes were drawn to the cabinet where he had stored the box. The damned thing seemed to be calling him. Shaking his head to clear it, he tried turning his attention back to the parchment but found it an impossible feat as the urge to once again hold the box in his hands grew to an almost painful need. With a huff, he set the parchment and book aside to retrieve the puzzle box.

"It seems my friend didn't like you. Why is that, I wonder? What did you share with him that you haven't with me?"

The old, familiar ache in his fingers began and he held the box in his hands. Abandoning all reason, he sunk down to his knees as his fingers moved into place and began to work the designs on the box, but this time instead of thinking about his actions, he allowed himself to be lulled into something of a trance. Once he did, his hands and fingers moved on their own accord. The first stanza of the tinkling melody began to play as the lights in the study dimmed. The same side of the box popped up and replaced itself but instead of stopping there, he turned the box over again and watched in fascination as his fingers moved over the next side, and then the one after that, and the one after that, until on the sixth and last side, the box jerked out of his hands onto the floor in front of him. Lucius sat back in awe as the box became fully automated. The haunting melody was now complete and played as the box arranged itself in one pattern after another.

A nine-pointed star.

A shard.

A pyramid.

He had solved it! Now comes the mystery!

Finally, the box arranged itself back into its original configuration and went still for a moment before the largest solid circle dropped into the center of the box, leaving behind a black hole. Lucius leaned over and looked down. He began to laugh. Nothing! No gateway to hell, no demons (whatever they were), no dread 'Muggle Magic,' just nothing. What a fool he had been. He wasted a handful of galleons, annoyed his wife, and upset his friend over a puzzle box, albeit a clever little one.

As Lucius continued to chortle, two chains bearing razor-sharp hooks shot out of the black hole in the middle of the box and embedded themselves in each of his pectoral muscles. He fell silent in shock until the pain registered in his brain, and then he screamed. Prompted by the sound, two more hook bearing chains shot out of the hole and impaled each his cheeks. Two more drove themselves into his biceps. He howled with the worst pain he ever felt and tried to wrench away but found he was unable to move. The hooked chains were holding him fast. White hot, searing pain shot through his entire body and shredded his nerves as he continued to scream. He felt as if he were being both flayed and electrocuted by lightning at the same time. The pain was worse than from a Cruciatus curse.

He had made a horrible, horrible mistake.

He screamed for elves to come and assist him as wet, sticky blood flowed down his neck and chest and pooled on the floor beneath him. Through the pain, he became aware that a wall in his study began to crumble and collapse, bringing with it an explosive blast of air that blew the books off their shelves, portraits from the walls, and furniture across the room. He looked through the blood in his eyes to the cold, phosphorous light that now emanated from the shattered wall. Terror filled his belly as the silhouettes of three figures began walking slowly towards him. It wasn't until they stepped from beyond the wall and into the study that he was able to see them clearly.

He now understood the abominations Severus spoke about. The beings were humanoid to one extent or another. The head of the first creature bore skin so scarified that its eyes were obliterated. The only discernible feature was jaws of clattering teeth. The scarred skin had pulled its mouth back, giving the creature the appearance of a grinning predator. The second creature was more human looking, but ashen grey and bald with a wire triangle pierced through its cheeks and embedded into its neck. Its throat had been gashed open and was splayed out, displaying the red, glistening tissue beneath. It looked vaguely feminine but regarded Lucius with almost bored indifference as it scraped two curved knives against each other.

The third creature stood in the middle. It was the most human looking making it the most terrifying of the three. It too had an ashen grey, bald head, but unlike the female one, its head and face was covered in a grid of sliced flesh and, at the intersection of each line, a long, thick, pin was driven into its skull. Its eyes were completely black and soulless. All three creatures wore long black garments, almost like a priest's robes except their vestments had been rended, just like their flesh, with sections sewn into and through their bodies.

"Where is this place?" The third creature asked. Its fathomless eyes surveyed the devastation in the room before settling on Lucius who had now stopped screaming and was staring in abject horror.

"Who…who are you?"

"We are Hierophants of the Order of the Gash, to others, the Cenobites; guides to the farthest reaches of experience."

"What are you doing here?" Lucius whimpered in terror.

"You summoned us, did you not?" the female creature asked. Her otherworldly voice held a mocking tone.

Lucius could only stare and pant as he fought against the urge to lose consciousness. When he didn't answer, the pin pierced middle creature raised a finger, stained pink from blood, and pointed at Lucius' erstwhile object of obsession.

"The box. You opened it. We came."

Lucius felt like his bowels had become a mess of icy slush. He might have feared defecating himself if he were still capable of thoughts of modesty. The only thing that screamed in his brain was that of the desperate, panicked drive to escape. He was caught in a deadly trap of his own doing. Fueled by the primitive instinct of survival, Lucius violently began to struggle against the hooked chains that held him fast. He was entirely willing to permanently disfigure himself by ripping large chunks of his own flesh away to escape, however, the only result the action achieved was a new surge of indescribable pain as his skin stretched but would not tear. Screaming out his agony anew, he collapsed to the floor as the creatures chittered while they watched. It was then that Lucius drew upon his other primitive emotion of anger and his nurtured and refined arrogance. Steeling himself against the pain and humiliation, he raised himself back to a kneeling position with his hands bracing the floor on either side of his thighs.

"Enough of this and be gone! Do you have any idea who I am? I am no Muggle! I am  **Lord**  Lucius Malfoy and…"

Before he could finish, two more hooked chains snaked out from the hole in the box and embedded themselves in the top of each of his thighs as an answer. Lucius' screams rattled the very walls and foundations as the pin pierced creature threw back its head and laughed. It walked around Lucius until it was standing before him. It reached down and placed its right-hand index finger on Lucius' forehead as if Lucius was a favored pet.

"Such arrogance! Oh how  **fun**  you'll be to break! I promise you, Lord Lucius Malfoy that down the dark decades of your agony, this will seem like memories of paradise."

Lucius stared up in the black, soulless eyes of the creature, and seeing nothing resembling humanity in them, was filled renewed terror. All the trappings of Malfoy privilege crumbled away as the creature's inky black orbs stared back at him.

"No! Please! I didn't mean to open the box! I beg you!"

The other two creatures began to titter as if they heard a favorite joke. The pinned creature just smiled.

"Ah yes. We hear that so often. You suffer very well. And now if you're ready, we'll begin."

Lucius began screaming anew. As he did, long chains shot from places unseen and wrapped themselves around Lucius' body until he was completely immobilized from the chest down, and began dragging him towards the cold light beyond the demolished wall.

Lucius screamed out his terror as he was dragged beyond the wall and into the phosphorous light, watching as the wall reformed itself, cutting him off from his old familiar life, with the sounds of sadistic laughter filling his ears.


	5. Chapter 5

The mound of powdered Asafoetida on Snape's workbench smelled as bad as his mood. After his night at the Malfoy Manor and Lucius' stubborn refusal to heed his advice, Snape thought it prudent to brew a supply of post-curse remedies. Since Lucius refused to turn that awful puzzle box over to him to destroy, it meant that he would likely continue to tinker with it. Gods only knew what would happen if he managed to solve it. Snape shuddered again with the recollection of the visions he had seen when he held it in his hands. Why would anyone willingly bring such horror upon themselves, wizard or Muggle? Oh yes, some obscure 18th century aristocrat occultist. The conjuring of demons seemed to be a favorite pastime of Muggle dabblers of that era once alchemy had gone out of fashion. It was assumed that none of their incantations or rituals ever produced anything beyond mere psychodrama, but Severus never allowed himself to completely accept that. The dark forces don't really care who summons them, now do they? Lucius would realize this if he would, for once, drop his arrogance concerning Muggles and everyone else who wasn't a pure-blood.

He added the Asafoetida to the bubbling cauldron and turned the flame down so that the potion could simmer overnight. Muttering about the carelessness of the upper classes, he went into the living room to read a bit before bed. He had not more than sat down in the overstuffed, wing chair in the living room when the pounding on the front door began. The wall clock read a few minutes after 9:00 pm. Scowling with ire, he leapt up out of the chair, vowing to figuratively rip the throat out of whoever dared to disturb his peace. There was a good reason why he received very few visitors and it seemed this interloper needed a lesson about disturbing the "right weird bastard who lived at the end of Spinner's End."

Readying his lungs for a good bellow, he yanked open the front door. A cloaked figure stood on the stoop with a hood obscuring their identity. Before he could demand identification, the figure pulled the hood back from their head. Narcissa Malfoy stood looking up at him with a puffy, tear-stained face.

"Narcissa?"

She flew into Snape's arms and buried her face in his chest and began to wail. Too shocked to move at first, he stood helpless as her body wracked with choking sobs and dampened his shirt. When it seemed she was not going to stop, he reached around her and shut the door.

"Tell me what's wrong." He said as he led her into the living room.

"It's Lucius. He's…" She said as she collapsed into a chair and buried her face in her hands and continued to sob.

Snape closed his eyes and brought his fingers to his temples. He already knew. That blasted fool went and opened the box. He steeled himself for the specifics and pulled another chair close to the one Narcissa was now rocking back and forth with grief in. He let her cry for a few minutes more then pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket and pressed it into her hands.

"Tell me what's happened."

"I don't know! The night you came for dinner, I locked him out of our bedroom. I left in the morning to go to France. I was only planning to stay a couple of days. I was so angry at him! When I returned home, he wasn't there to greet me. It was then I noticed there wasn't an elf to be seen. They all had fled! I went to his study and when I opened the door…"

She paled and an expression of horror filled her eyes as she remembered the scene that met her when she opened the door to Lucius' study. "Oh gods!" she whispered as the tears continued to stream down her face.

"What did you see?" he asked. Instead of answering, Narcissa began to shake her head violently from side to side.

"You must tell me. What did you see?" Snape asked more forcefully and gripped her shoulders and forced her to face him.

"The room, his study, had been torn apart…and there was blood everywhere! Severus, he's dead!" She gagged as her body began to shake.

"Narcissa, stop. We don't know that."

"You didn't see what I did!" she whispered. "It looked as though he had been torn apart by wild animals."

Severus sat back in his chair as an awful sinking feeling filled his belly. Lucius dead? It was highly probable despite what he suggested to Narcissa. He wasn't completely sure what the box was or what it was designed to do, but one thing he did know for certain, it was a creation most foul. The night he examined it, he received visions of nightmarish scenes of indescribable horror. He knew instantly that whatever was contained in the box would find agency in this world if the puzzle was solved. He had warned Lucius not to open it. Then again, had Pandora also not been warned? He should have just taken the box away from Lucius and not given him the option of handing it over voluntarily. He knew Lucius always desired what was forbidden to him and now it seemed that his desire had extracted the highest of prices.

With his elbows on his knees, Snape leaned forward and put his face in his hands and cursed himself for not getting the box away from Lucius in time. And now here sat his likely widow, sobbing before the man who could have prevented her husband's death if he would have been just a little more insistent. Damn it, he should have wrested that cursed thing out of Lucius' hands when he had the chance!

Narcissa's sobbing increased in intensity and she began to bang her fists on the arms of the chair, keening "He's dead he's dead he's dead" over and over.

Snape rose and went to his potions store and brought back a calming draught. He uncorked it and placed it in Narcissa's hands and nudged them up towards her mouth. She drank deeply and in a few moments began to quiet her sobs. Snape cursed himself for what he was about to ask.

"And you did not see a body?" he asked as gently as he could. Narcissa shook her head in grief as she dabbed at her eyes.

"It was that  **thing** , wasn't it?" she hissed. "That horrid little box. He refused to tell me anything about it. Just spent hours locked in his study, tinkering with it." she spat. "It was cursed, wasn't it? I know he showed it to you, Severus. Don't deny it."

Severus sat back in his chair feeling wretched and guilty. In all probability, whatever Lucius loosed from the box either carried him off to another plane of existence or devoured him whole right there in the Manor. It was possible Lucius was still alive, but Severus doubted it strongly. The abominations contained in the box were too malevolent to be anything other than deadly.

"Yes, I believe it was cursed. As for what the box is, I'm not entirely sure. I have never seen anything like it. I should have taken it from Lucius and destroyed it somehow. I am truly sorry, Narcissa."

Narcissa nodded grimly as she finished dabbing her eyes. Severus looked up at her in surprise when she snorted with contempt.

"Yes, well, we both know Lucius doesn't part with his obsessions easily."

Narcissa stood from the chair and walked across Severus' living room and ran a finger along his fireplace's mantle.

"What am I going to do?" she asked quietly. "What am I going to say to Draco? He's still in Switzerland. Should I go retrieve him and tell him his father is…"

"No. Let him remain ignorant for right now. As for you…"

"I won't go back to the Manor! I can't! I just can't!"

"No. Do not return. Is there someplace you can stay? If not, you may stay here."

Narcissa shook her head. "I'll go back to France and stay in our villa. But Severus, I must know for sure. I know Lucius has asked so much of you over the years, but would you do one last favor for him…me…and look into this? I want to know if Draco will be safe and what happened to my husband."

"Of course. In the meantime, why don't you rest here tonight before leaving for France? You may take my bedroom and I'll remain down here."

"No. I need to be as far away from here as I can. I have a portkey to the villa." She turned and walked to the middle of Snape's living room and pulled the chain holding a locket out of her clothes. "The Manor wards will accept you. Thank you, Severus."

She gripped the locket and was gone.

Snape spent the rest of the night cursing himself and fretting over the solving of the puzzle box. Alone in his house, he admitted he was frightened. The visions he saw the night he held the box in his hands terrified him to his core and now, those visions had been loosed upon the world and had taken Lucius as their first victim. When the purple haze of dawn gradually overtook the dark of night, he firmly resolved to push his own feelings aside until he reconstructed the last hours of Lucius' life so that his widow and son could have some closure.

Then he would allow himself to mourn.


	6. Chapter 6

Severus stood at the gates of Malfoy Manor. He knew if he took one more step forward, the gates would open, allowing him entrance. He had not yet made that step. His fear aside, he simply did not want to see the carnage Narcissa described to him. Not because it was Lucius, or that he was squeamish, but rather he didn't want to be reminded of how he had failed to prevent whatever had taken place in Lucius' study. He could have. If it would have been anyone else, Severus would have just taken the object, no matter how the other person would have protested. How many times had he saved one of his students from blasting their fingers off in a brewing accident by roughly yanking them away from a cauldron? How many times had he pulled Potter out of whatever trouble he always rushed to get himself into? More times than he could count, that much was certain. So why did he not do Lucius the same courtesy? Perhaps he wasn't such a good friend after all.

With a sigh, Severus stepped forward and the gates swung open. As he walked up the path, he noticed the peacocks weren't out and strutting about and the fountains weren't running. The entire grounds were quiet and deserted as if whatever happened had scared away all the teeming life normally in abundance at Malfoy Manor. Even the manor itself looked dormant. As with the front gate, the doors of the manor swung open at his approach. Pausing once more to ready himself, he peered inside. Maybe it was mere imaginative folly, but Severus felt as if he was looking into a newly constructed tomb. Even with all the Malfoy opulence and luxury still pristine and intact, it no longer seemed hospitable for human life. Shaking his head to clear it, he stepped inside and shut the doors behind him.

Lucius' study was off to the left, past the great room. As he approached, he saw a trail of Narcissa's possessions, undoubtedly having dropped them as she fled. The door to Lucius' study was open and sunlight from the windows inside spilled out into the great room. His first goal was to contain that awful box and it was with that thought in mind that he entered the study.

He saw the destruction and the blood but he ignored it for the time being as he scanned the room for the gold and black box. He finally spied it a few feet away from a now destroyed cabinet. It was surrounded by coagulated streaks and puddles of dark blood but the box itself remained clean. Impulsively, he reached down to pick it up but stopped himself before touching it. It looked inert, or rather, asleep, as if it was waiting for the next set of hands to rouse it from its slumber. Returning to the trail of Narcissa's possessions, he picked up a velvet and jeweled drawstring handbag and emptied it of its contents on a nearby table. Pulling his wand, he entered the study again and levitated the box into the air and dropped it into the handbag so that his hands would not have to make contact with the object. After setting it aside to finally survey the room, he brought a hand to his mouth as the sensation of bile climbed up his throat.

As Narcissa said, the room had been wrecked: dozens, if not hundreds, of books lay scattered, furniture had been flung across the room, and portraits had been ripped from the walls. Severus saw that all the portrait's occupants were gone from their frames. He called to them, attempting to lure them back so that he may question them, but could get none to reappear. Still, all of that paled in comparison to the blood.

Severus focused on the largest pool of blood and decided that's where Lucius had been when the attack started. Smears of blood fanned out from the pool as if Lucius had dragged his hands through it; probably attempting to escape. Spray patterns lay beyond that, dotting the fine oaken floor and expensive rugs. The air hung heavy with the stench of it all. At some point, Lucius had been dragged from his initial position and across the room. Severus followed the trail of smeared blood until it stopped at the far wall of the study.

He stood staring at the smooth wall, perplexed. The trail of blood didn't just stop at the wall, it appeared to go under it as if Lucius had been dragged through the wall to the other side. But how? The wall was solid. Severus reached out and ran his hands up and down the surface, even thumped at it, but felt nothing. He stepped back to study the starting and ending point. Lucius must have been trapped, somehow, at the place where the largest puddle was located and then dragged, still alive, across the room and into the wall. Exiting the study and the manor, he walked the periphery of the grounds until he reached the side beyond the walls of Lucius' study. He found nothing. There was no blood on the ground that would indicate Lucius had been dragged  **through**  the wall to the other side. Was he still in the walls trapped? Severus hurried back inside and into the study.

He once again approached the wall and stared at it. Gingerly, he put his ear to the wall and rapped with his knuckles.

"Lucius?"

But there was no response. He stepped back to consider the bizarre situation and as he did, his eyes alighted on something at the baseboard – a small length of chain. Frowning, he stooped to pick it up. A sharp pain on his skin at the base of his index finger caused him to promptly drop it again.

"Damn!" he hissed.

He shook his hand as he squatted to look at it more closely. At the end of the chain length was a sharp hook that had pierced his skin. He shook his hand again before he shoved the affected area into his mouth. As he did, a single drop of blood fell from his skin and onto the smear of blood left by Lucius.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_The time in hell passes differently than the time on Earth. Lucius had been torn apart a thousand times it seemed. It was always the same; instruments of torture bit into his flesh and dragged heavily, carefully, separating muscle and tendon from bone. Hooks, chains, knives, and piercing objects – all took turns knowing his flesh. He had been flayed, drawn and quartered, and dismembered countless times. Through it all, was the laughter of the Cenobites, the screams of his fellow damned, and blood. Always blood. He would be torn to pieces, alive and screaming, and then pieced back together, new and fresh, for another round. At least, that's what it seemed like. Lucius was unsure if he even had a corporeal body anymore. During the brief periods when he was whole, he could feel his intact body but was disconnected from it. He no longer ate, or urinated, or slept, or performed any bodily function. The only thing that connected him to the concept of his body was the pain, and that was always in abundance._

_Occasionally the taskmaster would halt, and tenderly cup his face, and croon about how pain was pleasure and pleasure was pain._

" _Give yourself over to it, Lucius. It's so much better when you do."_

_Before he could grunt out an answer, a large hook would disembowel him as cruel laughter rang in his ears as he screamed._

_The brief respites between getting ripped apart were thin slices of heaven. Even if it were for a few moments, he could rest. He could not feel anything. He tried to immerse himself in those moments to stretch them out, to make them seem like they lasted longer than a few breaths. Sometimes, he would be left alone for a half a day and he would weep with relief at those periods of nothingness. It must have been during one of those periods when a single drop of blood granted him a tenuous fingerhold into the physical world._

_Lucius saw a face. He knew it was a familiar one. A safe one. It was harsh and angular, but it was one that he was desperate to latch on to and beg mercy from. It seemed to be peering across the barrier and into wherever it was that Lucius was at._

" _Severus."_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

Snape froze. As he sucked on the cut from the hook, he felt a sudden presence that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand at attention. He thought he heard a voice call his name, although it was faint and nearly inaudible. Drawing his wand, he straightened himself and spun in a circle, searching the room.

"Who's there? Show yourself!"

Severus stilled his own breathing. The only sound that returned to him was the whooshing of blood in his ears and his own heartbeat. He flicked his wand to send out a warning volley of magic but he received no response or acknowledgment. He still felt the presence. It was unnerving how it seemed so very near but also so inaccessible, like a spirit communicating from beyond the veil. A heavy weight suddenly pressed in on Snape's chest. Perhaps that was exactly what it was; Lucius' departed spirit. He turned back to the wall as if it were the barrier between this world and the next, where, if he peered hard enough, would reveal Lucius' ghost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Lucius felt the bloodborne connection quickly fading. Instinctively he knew that if there had been more blood spilled on top of his, the connection would have been stronger. He looked at the fading image of his friend's face, wide eyed and earnestly searching, and began drawing upon what little was left of tenuous fingerhold he had gained to the physical world._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

Severus felt the presence retreating back into the veil, but there was something not quite right now that he thought about it because although ghosts are non-corporeal, they still could manifest in the physical world, either as mists or semi-translucent beings if they wished. Therefore, where was Lucius' ghost, if he was indeed dead? He felt the cut in his hand growing sore as his tissue became inflamed from its trauma. Severus looked from his hand to the streak of Lucius' blood and realized that he felt the presence and heard the voice only  **after**  his skin had been pierced. Peering closer, he saw a single drop of scarlet blood lying atop the old, dark blood from the smear that disappeared under the wall. Ghosts have no interest in blood. He began to doubt his assumption that Lucius was dead. He scrutinized the wall again and mumbled a question to himself, not expecting an answer.

"Where are you?"

" _I'm in hell."_


	7. Chapter 7

The first thing Snape did when he returned to his home at Spinner's End was to secure the box. He found a suitable and nondescript receptacle and, after enchanting it with several binding spells, dumped the puzzle box inside. He then sealed the receptacle with bands of magic that only he could remove and placed it in a hidden vault under the floorboards in his living room. He loathed having the cursed thing in his home, but he didn't want it loose out in the world to be found by some unsuspecting person. Even through the binding spells, he could feel its malevolent presence.

The second thing Snape did was to sit down at his kitchen table with his head in his hands, staring at an abandoned cup of now cold tea. He couldn't rid his mind of the carnage he saw in Lucius' study. He feared Narcissa was probably correct that Lucius was dead; no one could survive that amount of blood loss. Whatever happened to Lucius, it was sudden and violent. He thought of the box now lying under his floor. According to Lucius, it was crafted by an 18th century Muggle toymaker for a corrupt aristocratic Muggle occultist intent on summoning demons. Severus had tried to tell Lucius that this was not as amusing as Lucius thought it was. Yes, most Muggle attempts at magic fail; they simply aren't equipped for it. Most. Every now and then, they succeed. Severus sighed. That was where he should start--Muggle magic.

After brewing a fresh pot of tea to steady his stomach and his nerves, Severus selected several tomes from his personal library: The Encyclopedia of Enchanted Objects, both volumes of History of Magic, a small history book of pre-revolutionary France, his preferred edition of The Dark Arts and How to Defend Against Them, and finally, as an afterthought, the Snape family Bible, owned by his late father and passed on to him. Severus had always hated it and upon his father's death, had shoved it in the nightstand drawer in his parents' bedroom. Why he kept it was a mystery even to himself. His father had not been a particularly religious man, but he certainly availed himself of the use of the Bible when it suited his purposes. His favorite thing to do was to drink to inebriation and then chase his traumatized wife and son about the house, quoting "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live," as he laughed at their distress. Settling into his armchair with his tea and selection of books, he began searching for something, anything, that might give him a clue as to what that horrid puzzle box unleashed on Lucius.

Hours later with an empty teapot and growing frustration, Severus snapped shut the Encyclopedia of Enchanted Objects, having failed to find any reference to demon summoning, Muggle enchantments, or deadly puzzle boxes. Even his unabridged book on the Dark Arts contained nothing of use and no mention of Muggle magic. Carrying the teapot back to the kitchen, he grabbed a small tumbler from a cabinet and filled it with whiskey. He thought briefly about preparing a simple meal, but his stomach rebelled at the thought so he took his whiskey back to the living room. He frowned as he took a sip and looked down on the discarded pile of reference material. All this magical knowledge yet nothing to help him. He took a larger sip of whiskey and cringed at its burn and sniffed from the vapor that rose to his sinuses. He looked at the last book he had yet to open—his father's Bible. He vowed that if it too contained nothing of relevance, he would burn it. And why not? That hateful collection of nonsense was the cause of so much human suffering, not to mention the persecution and murder of people like him throughout the millennia.

He settled back in his chair and picked up the Bible. He briefly looked at the genealogy chart meticulously drawn inside the cover. Generations of Snapes going back at least two hundred years or more. No mention of him though. His father either never got around to adding him to the chart, or more likely, refused to acknowledge him as his son. Biting back his anger, he steeled himself and drained the rest of the whiskey. The whiskey bloomed like a poisonous flower that spread its tendrils through his chest and into his veins. Severus could feel it starting to take effect as he began to leaf through the Bible's pages. Myth. Superstition. Fear. Ignorance. A vengeful, tyrannical deity too incompetent and capricious to responsibly tend to his own creation. At last, he found a few references to evil spirits and demons. Previously angels, they fell from God's grace when they chose to follow the accuser Satan. Cast down to the earth, they set about vexing humanity until such time as God decides to cast them all into the abyss. A grand tale crafted by fearful humans to explain forces beyond their understanding—death, disease, even nature itself.

Snape's eyes began to grow heavy and his thoughts wandered. He tried to imagine the aristocrat occultist's motivations for commissioning a puzzle box to use to summon demons and open a gateway to hell. Power? More wealth? Immortality? Arcane knowledge? Although Severus did not believe in demons, he most certainly knew that dark forces exist and anyone, be they wizard or Muggle, could draw these dark forces to themselves by force of will and the energy they themselves put out into the world.

Of course, Duc de L'Isle was mad. Between the nobility and aristocracy's habit of inbreeding and the use of lead and arsenic infused cosmetics, toiletries, and tinctures, de L'Isle was likely insane. Corrupt, ill, and rotting in body and mind, it was little wonder that de L'Isle believed he could take on the darkness and win. A man after Lucius' own heart, Severus thought with a hint of a smirk.

On a subconscious level, Snape knew he was asleep. His head had fallen to the side and rested in the corner of the chair's backrest, the Bible still open on his lap. His dreams were troubled but he couldn't bring himself to care enough to rouse from sleep. After an unknown amount of time had passed, he became aware of a presence in the room and his eyelids flew open. Snapping his head back and forth scanning his surroundings, all he found was a darkened room and silence. A glance at the clock on the mantle told him it was only a few minutes past two in the morning. He rubbed his hands over his eyes as he relaxed. It must have been a dream he thought as his head slowly returned to its position on the chair's backrest and his eyes closed. Just a dream.

"Severus."

This time, Snape leaped from his chair, scrabbling for his wand. The Bible fell to the floor with a dull thud. Fighting to clear his head, he pointed his wand at what appeared to be a man-shaped silhouette standing a few feet in front of him.

"Who are you?"

The silhouette was silent. Ignoring the pounding of his heart, Snape swallowed and whispered, "Lumos."

Lucius Malfoy stood before him, naked and staring with wild eyes. His mouth opened and his lips began to move, forming silent words. Snape blinked with confusion as he tried to make sense of the situation.

"Lucius? My god, Lucius, where have you been? What happened to you? Why are you…"

Lucius' body jerked forward and then back as if he were a marionette being pulled this way and that on invisible strings. Snape instinctively recoiled but got control of himself and reached out to steady his friend.

"Lucius?"

Lucius violently lurched forward again but this time he was able to grasp Snape's shirt with clawed hands.

"Help me!" His voice was choked and desperate.

Before Snape could respond, Lucius was yanked back, ripping Snape's shirt as he went. Lucius went still and once again stood silent before Severus. His mouth opened as if to speak but before he could utter a sound, hooked chains shot out from the shadows and embedded themselves all over Lucius' body. Lucius' eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open in a silent scream. Stunned and horrified, Snape watched as Lucius' body levitated a few feet off the floor while the chains began retreating, pulling Lucius' skin to impossible lengths, yet not tearing his flesh. Each of his wrists was impaled and his arms were stretched out from his sides, hanging him crucified in the air. Blood streamed down Lucius' body and pooled on the floor beneath. A strangled and agonized sound bubbled up from Lucius' throat as he turned his head to Snape.

"I'm in hell. Help me."

Then, with a wet, ripping sound, Lucius' skin was torn from his body, leaving him an anatomical study of exposed bloody muscles, connective tissue, and dripping veins. Snape tried to scream but couldn't. The hideous thing that hovered in front of him burned its lidless grey eyes into his and reached out a red, slickened hand.

"Please Severus! Please God, help me!"

At this, the hooked chains ripped Lucius into pieces. A spray of hot blood covered Severus and he felt the viscous fluid drip down his face as the coppery smell of human blood filled his nostrils. He began feeling as though he was going to faint as he surveyed the chunks of wet meat littering the room. Slapping a hand against his mouth, he took a few shaky steps backward until he was stopped by the chair. His eyes were involuntarily drawn downward to the Bible on the floor, now drenched in Lucius' blood. As his body debated whether to faint or remain standing, a shadow appeared on the floor and moved towards him. Severus felt his heart stop. The shadow stopped mere inches away from him. As much as he tried to resist, his eyes moved up to take in this new horror.

A creature with ashen grey skin stood before him. Its head and face were sliced in a grid pattern with thick, gleaming pins stuck into its skull at the intersections of the lines. Its eyes were completely black, unblinking, and inhuman. A foul odor emanated from it; the cloying, sickeningly sweet smell of decay. It wore black robes, reminiscent of a priest's cassock but rended with sections appearing to actually be sewn into the creature's body. A black apron of butcher's knives hung from its waist. The creature spoke.

"Open the box, Severus. Taste our pleasures."

This time, Snape screamed.

Severus awoke with a start. He leaped from the chair, sending the Bible crashing to the floor. Panting and gasping, he looked around his perfectly intact and familiar living room. There was no blood and no red sticky chunks of meat strewn about. He stumbled over to his mantle and looked into the mirror above it. His face was its familiar pale white and not dripping with crimson. It was a dream. A horrible dream, yes, but just a dream. A huff of embarrassment escaped his lips as he shook his head and turned away from the foolish man in the mirror. As he did, a hand brushed his shirt around the collar and he glanced down.

The shirt was torn.


	8. Chapter 8

Snape was as grim as he was determined. He felt as if he'd aged a decade in the few short hours since his nightmare when Lucius appeared before him, tortured by an unseen force that ripped him into pieces before his very eyes only to then be visited by that ghastly creature with dozens of nails embedded in its face and skull. He looked down at his ruined and discarded shirt on the floor. In his nightmare, Lucius had grabbed onto it in desperate attempt to hold on to him. As Lucius was violently yanked away, he'd torn it. It was unsettling when he found the shirt still ripped when he awoke. He concluded that he himself must have torn the garment thrashing about during his nightmare. This explanation did nothing to reassure him however because he didn't entirely believe it if he was being honest.

Snape could also no longer ignore the fact that this nightmare marked the second time that creature called him by his name. The night in Lucius' study when he examined the box was the first instance. Even before Lucius had solved the puzzle, those things beckoned to him.

_"Open the box, Severus. Taste our pleasures."_

He thought back to the events of that night. It was only when he touched the box, held it in his hands, did the visions come. Visions of torture and blood, terror and despair, and flesh torn apart over and over and over again. But why didn't Lucius also see those visions? Lucius was many things but stupid was not one of them. There was no way Lucius would have continued to tinker with that box had he also been privy to those images of indescribable horror that awaited the successful puzzle solver. No, these visions were directed towards him but why and to what purpose were just more questions with no answer. It seemed he had an overabundance of those. One thing he was fairly certain of – that creature wanted him. The box wanted him.

Snape glanced at himself in the mirror as he pulled on his robes. The tender skin under his eyes now sported a purplish-blue color made all the more noticeable by the increasing paleness of his face. He looked exhausted and drained but he didn't have the luxury of vanity right now. He felt as if he were in a race against time and he was falling behind.

After force-feeding himself two pieces of toast with jam and downing a strong cup of black coffee, he holstered his wand inside his robes, slipped some galleons into his pocket in case he needed to loosen some tongues, and prepared to leave for Knockturn Alley. Since academic research had failed him, he decided he would trace how the box found its way into Lucius' hands. Lucius had mentioned he purchased the box from a shop in Knockturn Alley called 'Dark Delights.' Snape was acquainted with all of the shops in the Alley but he'd never heard of that particular one. Perhaps Lucius had been mistaken about the name but again, it wasn't like Lucius to be that absentminded.

Snape lighted his fireplace and pinched a generous portion of Floo powder in his fingers. Stooping over, he pitched the powder into the flames, announced "Knockturn Alley," and stepped through. He emerged from The White Wyvern's fireplace with barely an acknowledgment from the pub's surly patrons. Offering a nod to the proprietor, he exited the pub into Knockturn Alley. Beyond a few witches and wizards milling about, the Alley's human traffic was sparse. Snape began walking, taking note of the shops and establishments he passed: Cobb and Webb's, The Coffin House, Moribund's, Shyverwretch's, but no Dark Delights. When he reached the end of the Alley, he turned and walked it again. He believed Lucius when Lucius said he purchased it in Knockturn Alley, so where was this blasted shop?

Snape reached the other end of the Alley and paused to think. An old Squib with a push broom stepped out from around a corner and began to sweep the cobblestones, all the while muttering to himself. Snape saw a ring of keys hanging from the old man's belt and it occurred to him that the Squib may be a custodian of some manner and therefore may know of the shop Lucius visited.

"Excuse me, Sir. Is there a shop around here named Dark Delights?"

"Eh? Whassat?" The Squib stopped his sweeping and eyed Snape.

"Is there a shop here in the Alley named Dark Delights?" Normally Snape hated repeating himself but the old man may be hard of hearing. The Squib narrowed his eyes at Snape and approached him slowly.

"Dark Delights…now there's a name I've not heard spoken aloud in a long time."

"So it does exist!"

"It did. Years ago. Before my time even. Why?"

"Where is…was…it? Around here?" Snape was looking around at possible locations. The custodian regarded Snape oddly.

"You're standing right in front of it, young man."

Snape turned around and saw a battered wooden door, half hanging off its hinges, and covered in years of cobwebs, dust, and neglect. He then looked up, above the door, and saw a rotting sign. Squinting hard, he saw painted letters faded to near invisibility. They read "Dark Delights." Impossible. This derelict shop couldn't have been where Lucius purchased the box. It was so thoroughly abandoned and forgotten, it had escaped Snape's notice even after he'd passed by it twice as he searched the Alley. He thought it was just a nook for rubbish or storage. Its windows were entirely opaque and dust covered, so much so that one could not see any sort of a reflection in them. Snape stood and stared. At risk of becoming a nuisance, Snape turned back to the old man.

"You're quite sure there isn't another location? Perhaps the owners moved the shop to a better property. Who are the owners? Do you know where I might find them?"

The elderly Squib was now becoming annoyed and suspicious.

"Why do you want to know?"

"A friend of mine purchased an item from this shop. He specifically named this shop and I know him to be reliable so…"

"So nothing! Either your friend's gone batty or you have. That shop closed years ago and never reopened. Good riddance too. Now, if you'll stop bothering me, I have work to do."

The old man walked away and resumed his muttering and sweeping. Snape turned back to the shop and shook his head in confusion. He stepped over to the windows and swiped his hand over the pane to clear some dust away in hopes of seeing inside. Peering through the glass, he saw only indistinct shadows. He looked at the door and noted it was secured with a padlock. Snape thought the wooden door was so rotted, that all he'd have to do was push on it and it would crumble into dust. He glanced back at the custodian and saw the man stealing furtive glances at him. Snape suspected the key to the padlock was hanging with all the other keys dangling off the man's belt. He needed to look inside this shop but he doubted the old man would accommodate him. It was time to change tack.

"Ah well. It appears you're right. I must have been mistaken," he said, adopting a casualness to his tone. "Since I'm here anyway, may I look inside? I've been thinking about opening a potions shop and I need to find a suitable location and I prefer it to be in Knockturn Alley. Do you have the key?"

"Do I have the key he asks. Young man, I don't have time to drop everything and open empty shops for every Nosey Parker who comes along. Now, bugger off!"

Snape steadied his breathing to gain control over his rising temper. He'd finally found the shop where Lucius claimed to have purchased the box and there was no way he was leaving empty-handed just because this old codger with the disposition of a dyspeptic hippogriff wanted to be difficult. He reached into a pocket and pulled out two galleons and jangled them in his palm.

"Of course, I'll compensate you for your trouble."

The old man reconsidered and hungrily eyed the two gold pieces. Leaning his broom against the outside of the shop, he detached the keyring from his belt and began searching for the padlock's key. He found it and opened the lock after much fiddling and jiggling with the mechanism. He finally pushed the door open and gestured for Snape to go inside.

"Go ahead, I'll wait out here. Never have liked this place all that much," he said as Snape stepped past him and into the doorway.

"Oi!" The Squib thrust his hand out towards Snape who dropped the gold into the man's open palm.

Once Snape was inside, he turned around and shut the door on the man. He heard him shuffle away muttering about the younger generation's lack of manners. Now that he was alone, he turned and allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the abandoned shop. There was no possible way Lucius had bought anything from this place. Tables devoid of any kind of merchandise lay scattered and overturned throughout the space, leaves, and debris had collected in piles here and there, vermin had chewed holes in the walls, and cobwebs hung like gauze curtains in the corners. Through it all, dust motes swam in the air and the musty odor of neglect permeated the environment.

With pupils properly dilated to see in the near darkness, Snape moved forward further into the shop and that's when he saw them – a single set of footprints in the dust on the floor and the only sign of recent human activity. Squatting down to get a closer look, he saw the footprints had been made by a pair of men's boots. Pulling his wand, he uttered the Lumos spell and aimed the light towards the floor. There, on the soles of the boots, was the impression of a serpent coiled in an infinity loop. There was only one person who wore custom made dragon hide boots with this design hand tooled on the leather soles.

"Lucius," Snape whispered as he touched one of the prints.

He had been here, in this ruin of a shop.

Standing up, Snape followed the footprints to the back of the shop where they stopped in front of a half-collapsed till counter, on top of which rested a handful of galleons, still gleaming as if they had recently been pulled from a coin purse and not buried under years of dust.

Had Lucius simply arranged to meet someone here in order to make the purchase, using the abandoned shop as a cover? No, that couldn't be it. Lucius said that he found the box inside this shop and purchased it. So why did the seller leave the payment behind? Where did the other merchandise go? Lucius said the shop was full of junk except for the box.

Snape then noticed there was a backroom behind the till so he stepped around the counter and entered the small space. Much like the rest of the abandoned shop, the backroom was cluttered with debris and rubbish. He coughed from the black mold growing in a corner of a water damaged ceiling. Feeling his old childhood allergy once again start to rear its head, he was forced to leave the room. As he headed back to the main part of the shop, he noticed something that caused him to halt. Underneath the counter on one of the shelves, there was a distinct rectangular shaped space of dust. Using just his thumb and forefinger, Snape pulled the rectangle off the shelf and shook it to get most of the dust off. He then took what he now saw were two papers clipped together in both hands and blew off the rest of the dirt. The first page looked to be a bill of sale from a house clearance company located in London that had sold off items from the estate of one Dr. Phillip Channard. The receipt was for one item only: A Baroque handcrafted ornament of pure gold and black lacquer. Snape's eyes went wide as he reread the item's description. Quickly he flipped to the second page and then his heart skipped several beats. There, on that second page, was a meticulously drawn and highly detailed drawing of Lucius' puzzle box.

Glancing around the shop to make sure the Squib custodian hadn't snuck into the shop behind him, Snape folded the papers and slipped them into an inner pocket of his robes and hurried towards the door. As he reached the entrance he stopped; he felt eyes watching him. He held very still and slowly reached his hand inside his robes and gripped his wand. With a deep breath, he drew his wand and spun around. Of course there was no one there, at least that he could see visually. Still, he felt a presence. Without lowering his wand, he reached behind his back with his other hand and felt for the doorknob. With a final wary survey of the empty shop, he opened the door, turned on his heel and exited with one fluid motion, shutting the door behind him. The Squib was waiting for him out in the Alley's street.

"Well?"

"I'm afraid it's not what I had in mind. Good day."

Snape walked briskly away, back towards The White Wyvern.

"I figured as much," the Squib grumbled and locked the shop.


	9. Chapter 9

Severus chastised himself for having procrastinated on his decluttering project for the last three years as it took him an almost herculean feat to locate his street map of London. Glancing at the clock on the mantle, he saw that it was only half past noon. He still had time today to go to the address listed on the bill of sale he found at the defunct shop if he didn’t tarry. As he spread the map out on his kitchen table, his stomach growled and complained at its emptiness. He hadn’t eaten much in the last two days and he was beginning to feel it but he didn’t have time to prepare a meal. He grabbed an apple and ate it as he studied the map.  Snape pinpointed the address to a building close to the intersection of Tabernacle and Clere Street. Now, how to get there? He resigned himself that at some point he’d have to take the Tube, but first he needed to decide the method he’ll use to get to Muggle London.

He could Floo to the Ministry of Magic and then use the telephone booth to exit into London, but he didn’t want to risk someone spotting him and asking if he’d seen Lucius. Neither he nor Narcissa had reported Lucius as missing yet but his absence would be noticed eventually, especially considering that Lucius held various positions at the Ministry. These positions were purely political appointments and mostly involved Lucius lending his clout as part of one of the oldest and wealthiest wizarding families in Britain. In short, his job was to peacock about the Ministry but soon someone will notice that he wasn’t doing it.

He decided to use the Leaky Cauldron’s courtyard by way of Knockturn Alley. He didn’t want to Floo directly to Diagon Alley for the same reason he didn’t want to Floo to the Ministry – he didn’t want to be spotted by one of his fellow faculty members who might feel compelled to corner him and chew his ear. If he Flooed back to The White Wyvern, he could slip into the Leaky Cauldron’s courtyard and then into Muggle London, hopefully without being noticed.

Snape climbed the stairs to his bedroom and opened his wardrobe. He kept some clothing appropriate for venturing into the Muggle world and from these he selected a white button down shirt, a grey sports coat, black trousers, and black leather loafers. Also in his wardrobe on the top shelf was a cigar box containing United Kingdom Muggle currency in a men’s wallet. Opening it, he saw that he had some five, ten, and twenty pound notes. He slipped the wallet into an inner pocket of the sports coat and shoved a few pound coins into his trouser pocket. As an afterthought, he slipped the two galleons he had remaining from his earlier trip to Knockturn into his other pocket. Gold was gold and it carried the same value in the Muggle world as it did in the wizarding one.

Returning back downstairs, he slipped the bill of sale and the sketch of the puzzle box in an outside pocket of the sports coat and his wand into the special pocket he had sewn into the lining of the sports coat. Just as Snape was preparing to Floo to The White Wyvern, Narcissa fire-called.  He knelt down in front of the flames to speak with her.

“Severus, any word?” Even through the flames, Narcissa’s face looked solemn.

“I believe I am making progress.” Snape paused as he considered how much he should disclose through the Floo Network. He didn’t think anyone was listening, but he didn’t want to take the chance.

“I need to ask you, did Lucius tell you anything about the day he purchased…the object? Anything at all?”

“No, nothing. Why?”

“No reason. How have you been, Narcissa,” Snape asked, changing the subject.

“Not good. I’m very grateful to you, Severus, but I’m simply beside myself with worry. I’ve told Draco where I am but naturally he wants to know why his father isn’t with me, or where his father is for that matter. So far my excuses are working, but he’s bound to get suspicious sooner or later. He’s due to return from Switzerland in a week and I have no idea what to tell him. Please, Severus, I need to know that he’ll be safe.” 

“I understand. I will have an answer for you before he returns.”

Narcissa’s face disappeared from the flames. Snape remained kneeling on the floor for several moments afterward with the weight of his task pressing in on him. In all likelihood, both Narcissa and Draco were safe; neither one had touched the box, but he had promised Narcissa that he would investigate what happened to her husband. He owed her that much. He also had no illusions about what most of the wizarding population would have to say about Lucius’ fate. Outside of haughty pure blood society, the Malfoys weren’t warmly regarded. They were stained with the suspicion of having aligned themselves with Voldemort and it was generally accepted that they were eugenicists who would gladly eliminate all who were not pure blooded. Were the suspicions true? Fractionally perhaps. Snape knew that Lucius’ morality was as grey as his eyes but so was the nuance when it came to the Malfoys. In his years acting as a spy, he learned that nothing was as black and white, cut and dry as most people assumed. It was his opinion that there was indeed some good to be found in Lucius although he was in the minority in this belief.

Snape rose from the floor to gather up a pinch of Floo Powder.

“Knockturn Alley,” he said and stepped once again through his fireplace and into The White Wyvern.

The proprietor upon seeing Snape a second time that day, and now in Muggle clothing, made a noticeable double take. Severus made eye contact and held it as if to suggest that the proprietor would do well to mind his own business. The proprietor quickly returned his attention to wiping pint glasses.

Snape made his way to Knockturn Alley’s egress into the courtyard behind The Leaky Cauldron. He peered around the corner to see if the courtyard was clear. He pulled his head back when he saw a young couple at the wall tapping the brick that would open the wall to Diagon Alley. He waited until he heard the wall close then hurried into The Leaky Cauldron. Moving quickly and keeping his head down, he made his way to the front door of the pub which exits onto Charing Cross Road.  

The transition from the wizarding world into the Muggle one was sharp and pronounced. Most witches and wizards found the change rather jarring, particularly if they did not often venture out into the Muggle world, however Snape was more accustomed to it by virtue of having a Muggle father.

Snape made his way to the Leicester Square Tube Station. He stopped at a wall map of London’s Underground and confirmed that he needed to take the Northern Line. It would take him to King’s Cross/St. Pancras Station and then on to the Old Street Station, his destination. After waiting in a short queue, he purchased a day pass and made his way to the platform.

Riding the Tube was always an exercise in ill comfort for Snape. He disliked the way people rushed in and jostled about, bumping into each other and standing uncomfortably close. He weaved his way to a pole and hooked an arm around it and braced himself for the lurch when the carriage took off.

Snape lost himself in his thoughts as he rode the Tube. He thought about his strategy for questioning the owners or operators of the house clearing company that apparently sold the box to whomever sold it to Lucius. He needed to be cautious. For all he knew, these people simply merchants, moving the inventory they had acquired and had no idea of the malevolent nature of the box. The last thing he needed was to appear mad by asking imprudent questions.

_“Would you be so kind as to tell me why you saw fit to sell a cursed puzzle box that dragged my friend to hell and tore him to pieces?”_

He became aware that someone was staring at him and turned his head. He expected to see a runny nosed, sticky fingered moppet peering at him but there was not a child to be seen. Instead, at the other end of the carriage, stood a disheveled, sooty faced man in threadbare and filthy clothes with a dirty bird’s nest of a beard and shoulder length ratted hair. The man’s eyes held Severus’ with an unblinking, penetrating gaze. Initially Severus thought the man may be a Squib or one of those rare Muggles who could perceive witches and wizards, but the man’s burning gaze held a different sort of recognition. He stared at Snape like he knew who he was and was scrutinizing his every move and thought. Snape found himself unable to look away. A dawning realization came to him that the man was not actually human and was somehow connected to the box. Although his eyes were locked with the man’s, he noticed that none of the Muggles in the carriage took any notice of him. Snape wasn’t sure they could even see him and that the visage of the man was only apparent to him. 

The carriage began to slow as it approached the King’s Cross/St. Pancras Station and gradually came to a stop when it reached the platform. Snape’s line of vision was temporarily blocked as some of his fellow passengers rushed out of the carriage and a new group rushed in when the doors opened. When the jostling settled once again, Snape saw that the man had vanished. He quickly craned his neck to look out of the windows as the carriage began to roll past the platform but he did not see the man amongst the disembarked passengers. It was only once the carriage was well away from the platform did Snape realize he had been holding his breath the entire time. That had been no coincidence and it certainly wasn’t his imagination; he was being watched.

The final leg of the Tube journey occurred without further incident and Snape exited the carriage at the Old Street Station and made his way up the stairs and out to the street. He remembered from studying his street map of London that he needed to make his way south to Leonard Street, then left to Tabernacle Street where it would intersect with Clere Street. As he arrived at the intersection, he spied the building that housed the house clearing company and walked to the entrance. A handmade sign was taped inside the glass window of the door, indicating that visitors should enter by the adjacent door to the right. When Snape moved to that door, he saw that it was the entrance to another business called Barre’s Antiques and Auctions. Figuring that this business was an extension of the other one, he entered. As filthy and abandoned as the Knockturn Alley shop where Lucius bought the puzzle box, this shop was the opposite. It was full of neatly arranged, attractive, and upscale antiques and higher quality, previously owned items. Snape began making his way further into the interior of the shop, looking about for whomever was tending the business.

“Afternoon. May I help you?”

A late middle-aged Muggle man with a magnifying visor perched on his forehead and a pair of reading glasses dangling on a cord around his neck appeared from around an impressively preserved Victorian era armoire and approached Snape with an easy smile.

“Yes. Is this also the location of the house clearing company next door?”

“It is. My boys are out on a contract so I’m afraid it’s just me today. What can I do for you?”

Snape reached into his pocket and extracted the bill of sale and sketch he found in the Knockturn Alley shop and unfolded it.

“I would like to inquire about a previous sale your business made. What can you tell me about this,” Snape asked as he handed the Muggle the two pieces of paper.

The man took the papers and put on his reading glasses to examine them. He read the bill of sale, flipped to the page with the sketch of the puzzle box, then flipped back to the first page again. He frowned.

“Yes, we made this sale. It was part of an auction. What do you want to know?”

“Where did you obtain this item for one, and who did you sell it to for another.”

The man looked over his reading glasses at Snape and regarded him for a few moments, still frowning.

“Any particular reason why,” the man asked.

“Merely curious,” Snape responded.

“I see,” the Muggle said and slowly removed his reading glasses. “I think you should tell me why you’re really here.”

Snape was taken aback at the man’s forthrightness but his years of working as a spy gave him the skill of concealing his facial expressions.

“Pardon?”

“Are you a family member of one of Channard’s patients? Or are you just another curiosity seeker or reporter? If it’s the former, I’ll tell you the same as I’ve told the others – I’m sorry but I can’t help you so you need to follow up with the police. They’ll help you sort it out. If you’re the latter, you can just turn around and go back the way you came.”

The man held the papers out to Snape and straightened up to his full height to suggest he would brook no argument.

“I’m neither,” Snape said as he took the pages.

“Is that so? So what are you doing with those,” the man asked, pointing at the pages in Snape’s hands.

Snape reappraised his circumstances. Sometimes, honesty was the best course of action.

“A friend of mine recently purchased the object on the second page. He’s since disappeared and I am trying to find out what happened to him. I assure you, I’m not making accusations but acquiring this object was one of the last things he did before going missing. If there’s anything you can…”

“I see,” the man said. “Seems there’s been a lot of that going on. Like I said, the best thing is to go to the police. They can help you better than I can.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Snape answered. “I can assure you, the police cannot help in this circumstance.”

The Muggle looked at Snape for several more moments, as if he were deciding whether to indulge him or not. The man sighed and looked around his shop to see if he had any other customers milling about before he turned and walked towards the back, motioning for Snape to follow.

“This way.”

Snape followed the man to a back office. The Muggle gestured to an empty seat and then sat himself in his own chair behind the desk.

“So, what do you know,” the man asked Snape.

“Nothing. Only what I mentioned previously; a friend acquired that object from an unknown party and less than a week later, he vanished under highly disturbing circumstances. What did you mean when you said, ‘there’s been a lot of that going on?’”

“I take it you don’t read the papers,” the man said. “You haven’t heard about what happened at the Channard Institute?” Snape shook his head.

“You’re better off for it. The Channard Institute was a psychiatric facility just outside of London to the South. After the murders, the authorities discovered that it was no respectable psychiatric facility as it was presented to the public. It was a bloody lunatic asylum like in years past. Patients were kept chained up in the sub-basement, locked in tiny rooms for years at a time, and it looked like some were subjected to unethical experimentation.”

“Murders?” Snape went on alert.

“More like a wholesale slaughter. A little less than month ago, a young woman summoned the police to the Institute after she and another young woman escaped. When the police entered, they found dozens of patients murdered. And not just murdered. Many of them had been ripped to pieces. Eviscerated even. Of course after that, the truth about Dr. Channard came out. That he had used his patients as his own personal laboratory rats. He operated on them without their consent, turned merely troubled people into catatonics. The things that went on in that place...” The Muggle stared down at his desk and shook his head. After a pause, he continued.

“Naturally the police immediately began looking for Channard. His private residence was on the grounds of the Institute and what the police found there rivaled what they found inside the Institute. The attic was full of bodies. More of his patients, you see. They all had their wrists bound and were hung from hooks in the ceiling and, if you can believe the reports, they looked like they had been sucked dry of every drop of blood and fluid in their bodies. All that was left were husks. Channard had disappeared. The police suspect he met a bad end and so help me, I hope he did.”

“And it was your business that was hired to clear out the Institute,” Snape asked.

“Actually, no. We got the contract after a crew member of the first clearers died mysteriously at the site. He was found, oh how should I say this, pulled through a blood covered mattress and halfway into the floor. When they tried to extract his body, only his lower half came out. His upper half was never found. Of course, we weren’t told this at the time, otherwise we never would have taken the contract. After the bodies had been removed and the police collected their evidence, we came in to clear out Channard’s house. Since Channard had no living relatives or anyone else willing to claim to be his next of kin, we were given the option to buy the contents of the house for auction. I wish I never had agreed to it. I don’t know what weirdness Channard was in to, but everything of his we collected felt…wrong. I don’t know how else to explain it. Your friend’s puzzle box was among those items.”

Snape wanted to ask the man why, if Channard’s possessions felt so wrong, did he turn around and sell them but he refrained because he didn’t think he could ask the question without sounding accusatory. The man seemed truly disturbed and remorseful over the events and there was no sense in further upsetting the man. Besides, most modern day Muggles simply didn’t believe in curses. To Muggles, cursed objects just felt “wrong,” like the Muggle man had described. Snape suppressed a grimace at the thought of dozens if not hundreds of cursed objects now floating about in the Muggle world.

“Whom did you sell the puzzle box to?”

“I didn’t. Sell it, I mean. One of my assistants did. According to her, the individual paid cash and didn’t leave a name. Everything else was snapped up by the type of people who collect items attached to horrible crimes. Point is, it’s all gone, good riddance, I’ve washed my hands, and that’s all there is.”

It seemed this was all he was going to get from the man. He stood to take his leave but before he could thank the man and depart, the man held up a finger.

“Wait,” he said and began digging in a drawer of his desk. “Here. Take it. I have no more use for it.”

The man handed Snape a folded newspaper. Snape unfolded it and looked. It was a front page story on the events at the Channard Institute. One of the pictures towards the bottom of the page was of a young girl, staring at the camera with haunted eyes. It appeared to have been taken while she was still on the grounds of the Institute. There was a caption underneath.

_Kirsty Cotton of Cricklewood, London, summoned the police after escaping from the Institute._

Snape’s eyes were drawn to the young woman’s hands. They held what appeared to be a cube. He quickly folded the paper and concentrated on concealing his emotions. The cube the young woman was holding was most certainly Lucius’ puzzle box. He thanked the man for his help and made his way outside. Once there, he walked until he found a bench and sat to read the newspaper article.

The British press had obviously omitted the more lurid and grisly details of the story, but it was all there - bodies torn to pieces, mysterious deaths and disappearances, and at the center of it, the puzzle box. How many hands had now touched that wretched thing? The Muggle’s assistant for one and the young woman in the photo for another. He looked at her picture again. The young woman’s eyes stared back at him through the newsprint grain. Snape remembered an expression used to describe the dissociative state of soldiers who had seen too much war - the thousand-yard stare. That’s what was in this young woman’s eyes. In the photo, she was gripping the box with two clawed hands. At some point after this photo was taken, she was separated from the box where it was then gathered up by the Muggle’s work crew. But how and why did she have it to begin with? He wondered if she was still alive given the box’s habit of destroying everyone who comes into contact with it.

Snape’s thoughts began to wander again. It couldn’t be mere coincidence that she was photographed holding the box after her escape from the Channard Institute. From what he learned about the events at the Institute, it was clear that someone inside had opened the box, but who? Perhaps the young woman herself? If so, had she cognizant of its nature? What secrets was this young woman keeping? Looking up from the newspaper, Snape saw that the sun was beginning its slow descent into dusk. A thought struck him and he began walking until he reached a convenience shop. Once there, he asked if they had a telephone directory that he could borrow.

The young woman’s name was Kirsty Cotton and the photograph’s caption identified her as living in Cricklewood London. He thumbed through the pages until he found the alphabetical area where Cotton would be listed. His hopes of finding a listing weren’t great so he was quite relieved when he saw a listing for L. Cotton at 55 Ludovico Place, Cricklewood, London. It was the only listing for the surname of Cotton and with a Cricklewood address. He didn’t know who L. Cotton was, but surely it was a relative of Ms. Cotton’s. Perhaps a father or mother or even a grandparent.

The sun continued its descent to the horizon and Snape began to make his way back to the Old Street Station for his journey home. Along the way, the scent of hot food assailed his senses and caused his knees to weaken with hunger. He had eaten very little over the last few days and his self-neglect was catching up with him. He entered the Chinese takeaway where the odor emanated from and ordered a chicken stir fry to take with him.

Snape’s return journey went without incident and he arrived back at Knockturn Alley and The White Wyvern just as the sun was setting. There were now more people around but no one took notice of him as he once again stepped through the Floo and back into his own living room. Perhaps it was only his imagination or his fatigue, but he was certain he could feel that damned box radiating its ill presence through the warding he'd placed on it, now more than ever. He tossed the newspaper on top of the London street map still spread out on his kitchen table and pushed both to the side to clear a space to eat. He was too tired to bother with a plate so he simply grabbed a fork and ate out of the takeaway containers.

The food tasted like ash in his mouth even though his body gratefully responded to the nourishment. He wanted to discard the rest but he forced himself to finish it. Normally he quite enjoyed Asian cuisine but it seemed his proximity to that cursed object affected him more than he’d like to admit. As he stood to dump the containers into the bin, his fatigue now arose to demand satisfaction. He needed sleep but first he had to locate the Cricklewood neighborhood on the map so he could plan his trip. Centering the map on the table, he found Cricklewood to the Northwest of London proper. He sighed when he realized that he would have to take a half hour train trip as the Underground didn’t travel to that destination. Perhaps he would hire a taxi. He would decide all that tomorrow morning. Right now though, he needed sleep.

Snape wearily climbed the stairs to his washroom, stripped off his clothes, and showered. He pulled on his pajamas, scrubbed his teeth, and fell into bed. Just before he allowed himself to succumb to sleep, he reached into the nightstand next to his bed and took a Dreamless Draught. He didn’t want to risk another nightmare or vision. He was unconscious before he could even adjust his pillows.

__________________________________________________________________________

Snape didn’t know how long he was asleep before his consciousness returned. He opened his eyes and reached for his wand, not finding it on the nightstand. He had left it in the pocket of his sports coat.

“Accio wand,” he whispered into the dark.

The sports coat flew to his bedroom and into his hands. He fished it out of the sewn in sleeve inside the jacket and aimed it into the darkness. He dreaded what was bound to come next.

“Lumos.”

What Snape saw caused him to leap from his bed. On the opposite side of his bedroom, Lucius was pinned to the wall like an insect in some entomologist’s specimen case. A gore dripping pole had impaled Lucius through his solar plexis and held him flush against the wall several feet off the ground. He was hanging there limp, naked, and seemingly unconscious. Snape did not know if he was dreaming or if this was truly a physical manifestation. He slowly approached the visage of Lucius, his wand still at the ready.

“Lucius?” There was no response. Snape got close enough so that he could look up into Lucius’ face.

“Lucius?”

Lucius’ eyes flew open and his head snapped up.

“Severus! Help me! Please help me!” Lucius’ hands desperately grabbed at Snape. The movement started a stream of blood flowing from where the pole had pierced Lucius’ torso. Alarmed, Snape stepped back and tried to grip the pole to pull it out of Lucius. This action caused a pained groaning from Lucius who began to flail weakly. Snape couldn’t physically dislodge the pole and was just about to employ magic when a hissing noise, like steam escaping from a pipe, sounded from behind him. Lucius looked over Snape towards the sound’s direction.

“No. No please.”

Snape stopped and froze. He felt it behind him. The creature. The demon.

“Terrible, isn’t it? The suffering of a friend.” The creature’s deep unworldly voice held a mocking tone.

Snape whipped around to face it. It was standing at the foot of his bed, watching with its inhuman black eyes. Tapping into his training and his own survival instinct, he began throwing hexes, curses, and banishing spells at the creature with his wand. The light from the magic shooting from his wand was simply absorbed into the creature with no effect. Snape attempted another volley with the same result. The creature looked down at its body, amused. It raised its head and began to slowly walk towards Snape.

“Did you really think your pitiful magic would be any match against me? Against hell?”

The creature stopped a few paces away and Severus once again smelled the sweet foetid stench of decay.  His mind raced as he considered what to do next. If magic didn’t work, he knew that physical combat would likely be as ineffective.

“Now, to business. Open the box, Severus. We have such sights to show you.”

Snape steeled himself for what he was about to do.

“Avada Kedavra!”

The blinding green light of the killing curse hit the creature and disappeared into its body. The creature tilted its head back and laughed. Snape startled awake with its laughter ringing in his ears.

**Author's Note:**

> The events of this story occur sometime after the events in Hellraiser II (movie) and incorporate elements from Hellraiser, Hellraiser II, Hellraiser: Bloodline, Clive Barker's novella 'The Hellbound Heart,' and other Hellraiser lore. In the Harry Potter timeline, the events occur sometime after Voldemort's return in Goblet of Fire. Although Barker's novella was published in 1986 and the movies were filmed in the late 80's, Barker never named specific dates so for the purposes of this story, these timelines are parallel.


End file.
